Page 16 of Dangerous Deceit

I’ve never wanted a wife, but the idea of having a partner who is like her—loyal to her family—appeals to me. The part of me that knowsfamilycomes beforeeverything else.

I tap the partition. The driver rolls it down.

“Flamingo?” he asks.

“Thanks,” I say.

The partition rolls up, and Vi looks at me. “Our motel is on Paradise, not Flamingo.”

“I’ve got a job to run,” I say. “It’ll be quick. Promise.”

The driver turns onto the correct street, and my mind goes wild, imagining her pussy in my hands, her tangy scent on my fingers. I keep finding excuses to sniff my hand; she must think I’ve got a coke problem.

Eventually, we pull into the parking lot of a run-down motel. Potholes crest the lot, and a few people in tattered jackets smoke by the fenced-in pool. I slip out of the car and hold out my hand for Vi.

“Where are we?” she asks.

“I asked my brother if he had any jobs I could take off of his hands,” I say. “Part of the business, I’m afraid. Figured I’d give you a taste.”

I pull a keycard out of my pocket, about to tap it on the scanner, when Vi grabs my arm. Shock jolts through me; it’s a voluntary touch. She must know what’s coming, and this is her attempt to stop me.

The card hits the scanner, and the lock flashes green.

The door opens.

Inside, a lanky, middle-aged man with yellow eyes and a stained shirt, startles from his seat on the bed.

“Hey!” he shouts. “You can’t just?—”

I pull out my gun and shoot him in the forehead. The bullet is quiet—the traffic in Las Vegas is loud as hell, and with the silencer, it’s like the pop of a corn kernel. His body slumps back onto the bed like another unshapely pillow. A trickle of blood winds down his temple.

Vi holds her mouth, her eyes wide. She’s beautiful like that—pure shock in the form of lightning bolts, flashing across her blue eyes. Red cheeks. Pink lips.

Her lips tremble, but she finally spits out: “You killed him.”

I stow my gun. “He owed us a lot of money. He didn’t have a niece to offer. Tomo already gave him a second chance.”

“You’re a killer.”

Her lips pout with trepidation, but she stays rooted to her spot. If she is as innocent and untouched as her uncle says, then she would’ve had more of a reaction. Eventouchingher at the gala should’ve made her squirm, but she leaned into me. Embraced it.

And this? She’s gawking. Stunned, maybe. But she’s not scared.

The delicate blood vessels in her neck twitch. The charge in the air radiates between us as her breathing hitches.

I can’t take it anymore.

I grip my hands in her hair, yanking her back and guiding her inside of the motel room. Then I press her against the closed bathroom door, the whole wall rattling with the sudden pressure of our bodies. Her thighs clench, and I press my leg between them. Her dress parts to the sides, and her pussy is warm and damp through my pants.

Virgin or not, Vi drives me wild.

“You’re right,” I say. “I am a killer. I’m yakuza. But I like to give people a chance. People work harder for you when it’s their choice. Don’t you agree?”

She doesn’t say anything, so I take that as a yes. I breathe onto her lips for a few seconds, inhaling her deep, burnt-sugar scent, then I let go of her hair. She finds her balance on her feet as I grab a small black box from my pocket, handing it to her. She opens it.

A giant diamond ring twinkles up at her, shimmering even in the crappy fluorescent lighting.

She stutters: “Kenzo, I?—”

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